Iraq: Amidst Bush Jnr's shameful, myopic & bloody surge, a soccer team places smiles on Iraqi face Print E-mail
#1  London ~~ Monday July 30 2007

Iraq: One in seven joins human tide spilling into neighbouring countries

Patrick Cockburn in Sulaymaniyah

Two thousand Iraqis are fleeing their homes every day. It is the greatest mass exodus of people ever in the Middle East and dwarfs anything seen in Europe since the Second World War. Four million people, one in seven Iraqis, have run away, because if they do not they will be killed. Two million have left Iraq, mainly for Syria and Jordan, and the same number have fled within the country.

Yet, while the US and Britain express sympathy for the plight of refugees in Africa, they are ignoring - or playing down- a far greater tragedy which is largely of their own making.

The US and Britain may not want to dwell on the disasters that have befallen Iraq during their occupation but the shanty towns crammed with refugees springing up in Iraq and neighbouring countries are becoming impossible to ignore.

Even so the UNHCR is having difficulty raising $100m (£50m) for relief. The organisation says the two countries caring for the biggest proportion of Iraqi refugees - Syria and Jordan - have still received "next to nothing from the world community". Some 1.4 million Iraqis have fled to Syria according to the UN High Commission for Refugees, Jordan has taken in 750 000 while Egypt and Lebanon have seen 200 000 Iraqis cross into their territories.

Potential donors are reluctant to spent money inside Iraq arguing the country has large oil revenues. They are either unaware, or are ignoring the fact that the Iraqi administration has all but collapsed outside the Baghdad Green Zone. The US is spending $2bn a week on military operations in Iraq according to the Congressional Research Service but many Iraqis are dying because they lack drinking water costing a few cents.

Kalawar refugee camp in Sulaymaniyah is a microcosm of the misery to which millions of Iraqis have been reduced.

"At least it is safe here," says Walid Sha'ad Nayef, 38, as he stands amid the stink of rotting garbage and raw sewage. He fled from the lethally dangerous Sa'adiyah district in Baghdad 11 months ago. As we speak to him, a man silently presents us with the death certificate of his son, Farez Maher Zedan, who was killed in Baghdad on 20 May 2006.

Kalawar is a horrible place. Situated behind a petrol station down a dusty track, the first sight of the camp is of rough shelters made out of rags, torn pieces of cardboard and old blankets. The stench is explained by the fact the Kurdish municipal authorities will not allow the 470 people in the camp to dig latrines. They say this might encourage them to stay.

"Sometimes I go to beg," says Talib Hamid al-Auda, a voluble man with a thick white beard looking older than his fifty years. As he speaks, his body shakes, as if he was trembling at the thought of the demeaning means by which he feeds his family. Even begging is difficult because the people in the camp are forbidden to leave it on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Suspected by Kurds of being behind a string of house robberies, though there is no evidence for this, they are natural scapegoats for any wrong-doing in their vicinity.

Refugees are getting an increasingly cool reception wherever they flee, because there are so many of them and because of the burden they put on resources. "People here blame us for forcing up rents and the price of food," said Omar, who had taken his family to Damascus after his sister's leg was fractured by a car bomb.

The refugees in Kalawar had no option but to flee. Of the 97 families here, all but two are Sunni Arabs. Many are from Sa'adiyah in west Baghdad where 84 bodies were found by police between 18 June and 18 July. Many are young men whose hands had been bound and who had been tortured.

"The majority left Baghdad because somebody knocked on the door of their house and told them to get out in an hour," says Rosina Ynzenga, who runs the Spanish charity Solidarity International (SIA) which pays for a mobile clinic to visit the camp.

Sulaymaniyah municipality is antagonistic to her doing more. One Kurdish official suggested that the Arabs of Kalawar were there simply for economic reasons and should be given $200 each and sent back to Baghdad.

Mr Nayef, the mukhtar (mayor) of the camp who used to be a bulldozer driver in Baghdad, at first said nobody could speak to journalists unless we had permission from the authorities. But after we had ceremoniously written our names in a large book he relented and would, in any case, have had difficulty in stopping other refugees explaining their grievences.

Asked to list their worst problems Mr Nayef said they were the lack of school for the children, shortage of food, no kerosene to cook with, no money, no jobs and no electricity. The real answer to the question is that the Arabs of Kalawar have nothing. They have only received two cartons of food each from the International Committee of the Red Cross and a tank of clean water.

Even so they are adamant that they dare not return to Baghdad. They did not even know if their houses had been taken over by others.

Abla Abbas, a mournful looking woman in black robes, said her son had been killed because he went to sell plastic bags in the Shia district of Khadamiyah in west Baghdad. The poor in Iraq take potentially fatal risks to earn a little money.

The uncertainty of the refugees' lives in Kalawar is mirrored in their drawn faces. While we spoke to them there were several shouting matches. One woman kept showing us a piece of paper from the local authority in Sulaymaniyah giving her the right to stay there. She regarded us nervously as if we were officials about to evict her.

There are in fact three camps at Kalawar. Although almost all the refugees are Sunni they come from different places and until a month ago they lived together. But there were continual arguments. The refugees decided that they must split into three encampments: one from Baghdad, a second from Hillah, south of Baghdad, and a third from Diyala, the mixed Sunni-Shia province that has been the scene of ferocious sectarian pogroms.

Governments and the media crudely evaluate human suffering in Iraq in terms of the number killed. A broader and better barometer would include those who have escaped death only by fleeing their homes, their jobs and their country to go and live, destitute and unwanted, in places like Kalawar. The US administration has 18 benchmarks to measure progress in Iraq but the return of four million people to their homes is not among them.
#2 London ~~ Monday July 30 2007

Leading Article: A flicker of hope amid division and despair

Raucous celebrations on the streets of Baghdad after the Iraq football team won the Asia cup

The victory of Iraq's national football team in the Asian Cup is one of those extraordinary and inspiring events that defy all historical and sporting odds. Here was a team made up of Iraqis of all religious persuasions and ethnic hues at a time when the country hovers on the brink of civil war. Here was a team where every player had lost family or friends in the four years of internal strife. Yet, starting as the ninth-ranked team in Asia, the Iraqis steadily played their way up the order, beating the favourites, Saudi Arabia, 1-0 to win.
The victory, which was celebrated throughout Iraq with volleys of gunfire that cost more lives, none the less offered a rare flicker of hope in a country otherwise mired in despair. One measure of that hopelessness is the exodus that has been gathering pace. As our correspondent Patrick Cockburn reports today, 2,000 Iraqis are leaving their homes every day. What is happening is, he says, the biggest mass exodus ever in the Middle East; it surpasses anything seen in Europe since the Second World War.

This vast displacement of people stands as yet another indictment - along with the disorder, the deaths and the destruction - of the invasion mounted by the United States with Britain's help, and the grievously mismanaged occupation that followed. Between us we destroyed a country - not a particularly pleasant or free one, to be sure, and certainly not a democracy, but not a country either where people took their lives in their hands when they went to buy bread or took their children to school.

Two million people have now fled their homes for other parts of the country. A huge redistribution is in progress, as towns, regions, and the country as a whole are re-divided along religious and ethnic lines. For many, the Kurdish region has become the closest to a safe haven that those without the means to go abroad can aspire to. But the conditions in the refugee camps there are primitive, and violence creeps daily closer.

A similar number again have left Iraq and found refuge mostly in Jordan and Syria. Some are supported by family or friends. Others have thrown themselves on the mercy of the local authorities. Only now, as the tide of people shows no let-up, is their generosity showing signs of strain - and no wonder: an estimated 1.4 million Iraqis are in Syria. The numbers are eloquent. They testify, first, to Syria's hospitality - which has gone largely unrecognised outside the region. More broadly, they are an overwhelming vote of no confidence in Iraq's future as a state where they can prosper as members of Iraq's once-privileged Sunni minority. Among those leaving are many of Iraq's brightest and best.

This is a tragic loss for Iraq. But it also reflects poorly on those responsible. The US and Britain have not only failed to provide security for those living in Iraq, they have also been miserly about granting refuge to those who flee. Officially, the British authorities consider Iraq a safe country - safe enough, at least, for Iraqis to be returned to. And while the Danes - who are withdrawing from the decreasingly multinational coalition - took all their Iraqi employees with them, those working with or for the British have no similar guarantee.

In this maelstrom of despair and division, the victory of Iraq's football team and the outburst of joy that followed suggest that Iraq's sense of nationhood has survived everything we have thrown at it: the military force, the incompetent occupation, the sham institutions. Might it, perversely, have been nurtured by adversity? Announcing his resignation as coach after yesterday's match, Jorvan Vieira said he had fulfilled his contract by "bringing a smile to the lips of Iraqis". We dare to hope that it will not be the last.